The Wet Weekend
by Mirqy
Summary: Weasleys, broomsticks, zero character development, some bad jokes. 'Eagles may soar, but weasles don't get sucked into jet engines'. Thank you to all reviewers so far!


'I can't believe it

Wet Weekend

'I can't believe it! It's a conspiracy!' Ron Weasley splashed angrily through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, ignoring the outraged complaints of the Fat Lady. He stormed into the room, threw his broomstick into a corner where it dripped miserably. He glowered at his favourite armchair for a second, until its occupant, the diminutive Colin Creevey, hurriedly vacated it, allowing Ron to drag it towards the blazing fire and fling himself down in it.

George and Fred Weasley and Lee Jordan followed at a more relaxed placed, and although equally soaked, were grinning and talking to each other, well - conspiratorially.

It was a terrible day. The first Saturday of the school year, and ominous thunderheads had been visible since dawn, rolling over the grounds damping out most of the meagre September sunlight. A few minutes ago the clouds had broken, and rain lashed at the castle as though determined to wash it away. Great raindrops hammered ceaselessly at the windows. Every so often lightning flashed in the distance, thunder rolling around the hills with dissatisfied energy.

'What's a conspiracy?' Hermione Granger had dragged her nose from a huge leather bound book.

'These two - ' Ron sat forwards in his seat, about to launch into an angry monologue, when George interrupted.

'Well, quidditch practise had to be called off, you see.' He waved a hand towards the sky, rain from his soaking robes splattering across his little sister Ginny, Dennis Creevey and their game of exploding snap. George paused and Ron again tried to speak:

'They won't - '

This time Fred interrupted loudly; 'and that means we had to end the trials before Weasley the younger had a chance to strut his stuff, as it were.'

' - been practising all summer, you _know_ how good I'm getting - '

George again; 'and clearly the weather - ' ('As well as the rest of the quidditch team', put in Fred helpfully) ' - thank you, and the rest of the team, are involved in a fiendish plot to prevent the unsung hero of the family ever performing before the adoring crowds of the quidditch field.' Neither of the twins seemed at all put out by this, on the contrary they were both enjoying their brother's frustration immensely.

'Well, you can always try out again next week, can't you Ron?' If Hermione was trying to calm Ron's temper, she failed, since he slammed his fist into the arm of his chair (with a loud, wet slap of sodden robe) and began again.

'No I can't. _They've_' (with a baleful glare at the twins) 'already decided they're going to pick someone who had time to show off! Some runny-nosed second year or whichever one of the girls they reckon is best looking, I bet. First match is next Saturday, so there won't be any more trials. They've probably already chosen someone.'

'Oh Ron, how you wrong us.'

'How you wrong us, oh Ron.' The twins, as ever, seemed to know exactly what was on each others' minds. They stared at each other for a moment, holding in suppressed laughter as if deciding who would drop the punchline:

'We probably won't decide until lunchtime.' And they both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Hermione tutted loudly, closed her book and went over to sit on the arm of Ron's chair. She pushed his dripping red hair back from his forehead and spoke quietly too him. Much as he pretended to resent the attention, he quickly calmed down, and within minutes the two had begun to whisper into each others' ears and giggle quietly.

George was distracted by Dennis complaining about being dripped on. 'Sorry about that, mate,' he cried, slapping Dennis on the back, practically hugging him in an extravagant show of contrition, and making him far wetter than before. Fred rolled his eyes at Ron and Hermione's flirting, but was distracted from making a rude comment by Lee Jordan, who was staring disconsolately out of a rain-streaked window.

'So what are we going to do for the rest of the morning then?'

There was a pause as the twins considered. 'Well, no more quidditch in this weather.'

'No point in going down to Hogsmeade either.'

'Could go exploring in the Unreal Wing,' Lee added hopefully.

'Not likely, not after we ran into that banshee there last week.'

'Put up that picture of Snape with Trelawney in the main hall?'

Ginny looked up from her snap game, awe-struck. 'You never - _they _never…'

'No, they didn't, but it's amazing what you can do with Mad-Obi's Acrobatic Imaging Spells.'

'I think we should save that picture to put up at the Halloween feast, anyway.'

'Where's Harry, today?'

Ron turned around to face them, 'Oh, he's off battling the forces of darkness again.'

Dennis blanched, his hand frozen in the motion of grabbing the pile of card on front of him. Hermione froze in the chair next to him. Colin Creevey jumped up and squeaked 'you - you don't mean You-Know-Who?'

'Oh no, of course not. Harry just had to visit the Dursleys today to pickup some stuff that got left behind when we liberated him this summer.' Ron allowed himself a quiet smile as everyone in the room sagged with collective relief.

George and Fred mooched around, bored and dangerous. It wouldn't be long before one of them came up with a plan that was exciting, funny and possibly deadly. Knowing the look, Hermione made a desperate attempt to distract them. 'It wouldn't hurt you to study,' she huffed loudly. It didn't faze either twin.

'Come off it Herm, its only the first week of term,' yawned Fred.

George took the offensive, however; 'What, you mean studying like you are?' Hermione turned a fetching shade of pink. She had slid from the arm of Ron's chair and was practically sitting in his lap.

'I am only talking to Ron - ' she was interrupted by George's disbelieving snigger ' - _talking _to Ron to try and find a way he can get a fair try at the quidditch team.'

'What is that you were reading, Hermione?' Fred examined the book she had left on the table. 'It doesn't look like one of the standard texts to me.'

'Oh, that's one of mine. I just got it for some spare-time reading. "A brief History of Magic". Its goes into a lot of detail on high-end arithmancy and potential applications. That copy's signed by the author. The field's really moved on over the last couple of…' she trailed off realising that nobody was listening. Fred was wearing a pained expression as he stared at complex, ever changing thaumo-geometrical images.

'Chuck it here, Fred,' said George.

'Wow,' breathed Ron in awe, 'they must really be bored.'

Hermione slapped the back of his head and stood up. 'Please be careful with that, Fred, it was signed by the author, he's one of the foremost - '

'Catch!'

The heavy book flew through the air, pages fluttering wildly. 'Oh no,' Hermione moaned. It was going to miss George by miles, heading straight for the window. Ron jumped to his feet, looking for his wand, but it was too late - and then, without warning, the book steadied, spine facing the ceiling, the covers flapping creakily like wings. The rustling of the pages was the only noise as George smugly twirled his wand and waited as the book flapped its way ponderously towards him. 

'OK, that's enough. Give it back to her.' Ron stepped forward, arms crossed, scowling more now than he had when he first walked in.

George ignored him, flicking through the pages nonchalantly, making a show of nodding learnedly in agreement with whatever he saw there. George and Fred had both, Ron remembered, dropped arithmancy faster than you could say 'really, _really_ boring' as soon as they'd had the chance.

'George, really, give it back, now!' Hermione should have known that this was the worst possible attitude to take with a bored Weasley twin. Fred and George exchanged a gleeful look, and the book once more sailed into the air. 

'All right, here you go.' It flew over Ron, just out of reach of his grasping fingers, and back to Fred.

'That's it guys. I warned you…' Ron stormed forward, brushing off Hermione's restraining hand. As he closed in on Fred, who dashed behind Dennis and Ginny, George surreptitiously gathered up both twins' broomsticks and edged toward the portrait-hole with a meaningful nod at Lee.

Dennis and Ginny ran for their lives, leaving the Weasleys separated only by the card table. Fred laughed. 'Bold sir Ronnykins, leaping to the defence of his damsel in distress?' Ron only growled in reply. Fred, grasping the book tightly, feinted left, then right, but Ron wasn't having any of it. As the youngest of so many brothers, he knew the running round the table game inside out by now. He'd learned long ago that the best tactic was to forget about going around and head straight over the top, giving the chaser an advantage in height and possibly surprise. The deck of cards went off in a series of explosions like a box of firecrackers around Ron's feet as he leaped onto the table while Fred dashed towards Lee and George. With a move more suited to a rugby player than a quidditch beater he passed the book to Lee who was already mounted on his broomstick. Lee tucked the book under his arm, gave a cheery wave to the common room, and disappeared past the portrait held open by George. Fred quickly mounted and followed while George zoomed after. Ron, swearing fluently, reached out his hand. His own broom leaped up obediently.

'Ron, be careful,' Hermione called after him as he flew off. The fat lady squawked indignantly as the fourth flier in as many seconds sprayed her with rain from a wet broomstick.

'Wow,' breathed Colin into the silence that followed. 'I've never seen anyone try to fly inside the castle before.'

'Harry's going to be sorry he missed this,' added Ginny. Then, as one, the Gryffindors surged after the fliers.

There was a reason why Colin had never seen anyone flying in the corridors, which Ron was rapidly discovering. Although fairly wide by the standards of most buildings, to a broomstick going as fast as he dared, they seemed very narrow and twisty indeed. They were also filled with lots of sharp, pointy, heavy protuberances like statues and large pieces of wooden furniture, or, worst of all, two-hundred pound suits of armour carrying very sharp pole-axes. Thirty yards ahead of Ron, George yelped as he glanced off one of them, sending him into a crazy spin. By a miracle he managed to recover his balance before he crashed. The suit of armour staggered forward, clutching its helmet with one gauntlet and shaking its fist at George with the other. Watching George departing, it didn't see Ron coming the other way, for all his shouting. Ron held his breath - there was no time to stop - tucked his head down and swerved low and to one side. He whistled past, his face inches from a wildly swinging axe-handle. Sweat started to break out on his face.

Up ahead Lee swerved sharply into a wider hallway. As a flyer, he wasn't in the same league as the Weasleys. He looked back over his shoulder and shouted 'we need to get outside!' at Fred. 'I don't have enough room to manoeuvre!'

'Head for the main staircase - the astronomy tower,' Fred called back. Lee nodded and turned to face forwards again. At the moment, Mrs Norris, the caretaker's cat, ambled into the middle of the corridor on her mid-morning patrol, following a most unusual noise. It sounded like the noise the young wizards and witches made when they flew about outside but it couldn't possibly be…

Lee didn't have time to say a word. By the time he saw the cat, it was already far too late. Mrs Norris froze for a second like a deer in headlights, then leaped reflexively into the air, back arched and claws bared. It was the worst thing she could have done. Lee hit her head on, and his world immediately turned into a nightmare of spitting, scratching cat, and the floor came towards him at fifty miles per hour. He tossed the book into the air, trying to fend off the furious cat with his other hand. With no hands left to steer, he quickly lost control and careened off one wall before hitting the floor and bouncing around before ending up with his head through a picture containing a very surprised looking warlock.

Fred and George swerved around the wreck, Fred plucking the book from the air as easily as he might have swatted a bludger away. Ron had gained a little ground while they had slowed and was closing in rapidly behind them. But now, without Lee's less than superb flying to hold them back, the twins opened up the thaumathrottles on their broomsticks, gradually increasing their speed until walls and obstacles whipped by at a terrifying pace. Ron came as fast as he could, but the best brooms in the family had always gone to whoever was on the quidditch team and his old Starburst couldn't compete. He began to fall back again. Nevertheless, he hung on grimly, deftly dodging everything in his way, even going upside down in a barrel roll to avoid a low-hanging chandelier without losing time.

George glanced back to gauge how far back his younger brother was. Not too far, he noted with a feeling of pride. 'Reckon we should make this a bit more challenging for the lad,' he called to Fred.

'We're running out of corridor anyway. Let's see how he handles the Wronsky feint.' Fred put on a new burst of speed, pulling away again. The corridor ended in a low balcony over the entrance hall. The Weasleys zoomed over it in rapid succession. George took advantage of the relatively open space, gained altitude and began to circle slowly, watching the other two. Fred had turned into a steep dive as he came over the balcony, plummeting towards the ground very, very quickly. Ron followed without hesitation, ignoring George, his eyes fixed firmly on the book.

It was really was a dizzying plunge, George thought with an uncharacteristic twinge of anxiety. After all, they were both his brothers, and if either one of them made the slightest mistake here, it would be a very messy way to achieve immortality at Hogwarts. He could hear the story being told, years from now '…and _that's_ how there came to be an enormous crater in the middle of the entrance hall'. Fred and Ron dove almost vertically towards the very hard looking marble floor, seemingly heedless of the danger. His heart in his mouth, George watched for the century it took his heart to beat once…twice…three times, until Ron began to pull out of the dive. He exhaled with relief, but at the same time was disappointed. Ron _had_ chickened out, after all. A second later, Fred too began to pull up, and George realised his mistake: Ron was on a less manoeuvrable stick, that was all. He had timed his dive perfectly, and as he and Fred slowed down the two flier's converged and Ron's hand shot out for the book. Fred turned suddenly, dodging the grab, aiming his broomstick up the main stairs. Ron cursed at the near miss and followed. George turned to follow, noticing that Lee Jordan was perched on the balcony with his own broomstick. Along the corridor, a gaggle of Gryffindors were racing to catch up. Hermione was panting with exertion - physical activity an area clearly lacking in her education. Colin was making good speed for his short legs, clutching his camera, hoping for a good picture.

Lee gave George a weak thumbs up, and then cast a spell on himself that amplified his voice, sending it echoing and reverberating back to the other Gryffindors. It seemed the commentator in him couldn't resist the opportunity.

'Did you _see_ that, Ladies and gentlemen? A superb example of the Wronsky feint, excellently handled by young Ronald Weasley, there, who not only avoided turning himself into a pancake, but made a spirited grab for the snitch. Er, I mean book.' He kicked off from the balcony into a gentle flight, obviously much happier in this capacity. 'Looks like they're heading for the astronomy tower.' Colin, in the lead, dived down a side-passage. 'Come on. This is a short cut!'

The wide staircase offered little challenge to any of the fliers. George passed Ron and Fred pulled even farther ahead. Lee, however, kept pace with Ron and offered encouragement. 'Great job so far, Ron. You give them a run for their money. Let's see how close you can get to them before you wipe out.' Ron flung him a glare, willing his broomstick to speed up.

At the top of the stairs, the twins entered the astronomy tower, heading straight for the glass windows at the top. George grinned confidently, pulling out his wand and shouting _Alohorama_[???]. The window didn't move.

'I said _Alohorama_!' George shouted, slightly panicked.

'Wrong spell, you stupid git!' Fred cried.

'Thanks for letting me know.'

'Oh _sh_……' with an almighty crash the twins hurtled through the glass panels into the open air. A storm of glass shard surrounded them, glittering like a glowing cloud. As it fell away, they looked at themselves, then at each other. Neither of them was injured, and they shook the glass splinters off their robes, shouting and whooping. Ron and Lee arrived in time to have to dodge the glass raining down from above.

'The twins can't seem to help themselves showing off. Still no fatalities, by a miracle.' Ron ignored Lee and headed after his brothers. The other Gryffindors made a more conventional entrance. 'Must of been a charm on that window to stop the idiots hurting themselves,' Hermione said to no-one in particular. Colin started snapping away at the wheeling figures.

The twins were getting their breath back and teasing Ron at the same time, tossing the book back and forth, playing piggy in the middle. Chasing around turrets and between spires, ducking through battlements and snatching at the book, Ron knew this wasn't a game he could win on his old broom. Lee kept up an infuriating (for Ron) and entertaining (for everybody else) commentary the whole time, hovering above the tower and the watching Gryffindors. The twins played with him for a while until they began to worry that he might go for his wand in his frustration. George finally kept hold of the book, looped around over the tower and shot down away from the castle towards the lake. Fred and Ron zipped after him, all three of them with rain-soaked hair streaming out behind them like torches in the dim light. There was a flash of lightning with the accompanying roar of thunder much closer now.

The Gryffindors had left the astronomy tower at a dead run, seeking vantage points where they could see the action. The Hufflepuffs, their common room facing in the direction of the lake and alerted by Lee's commentary, were hanging out of windows heedless of the rain, pointing and shouting.

George raced down to the water, flying only a few feet above the surface, concentrating on gaining speed. Fred flew close behind. Rain and wind turned the surface into a murky, grey menace, lurching unpredictably. Ron, knowing he couldn't match them for speed, kept higher above them. Fred glanced back to see how close Ron was - and didn't see him. 'Hold up!' he called to his twin, but George couldn't hear him above the rain.

Lee amplified his voice yet further to rise above the wind, which was now starting to howl around the castle. 'It looks like the Gryffindor beaters have lost sight of their little brother. They're slowing down - Ron's closing in, though he's still nearly a hundred feet above them. He's diving! He's diving! Going straight for the book. Miss Granger must be very proud - '

'Watch it, you!' came a voice from a window below, which Lee ignored completely.

' - It looks like Fred has seen him. He's remembered he's a beater, he's going to intercept! Looks like he's going to swat his little brother out of the way like an incoming bludger!'

The brothers were indeed on a collision course. At the last possible moment, Ron barrel-rolled upside down again, and Fred zoomed through the space that he should have been occupying, shoulder barging thin air. The watchers at the castle windows 'ooohed' in unison. George finally saw Ron dive down past him on his left side. As he leaned that way, trying to see where Ron had gone, Ron zipped below him and came up on his brother's right, snatching the book as he cam past. The crowd 'aaahed' appreciatively. But Fred wasn't done with him yet. Pulling his wand from his sleeve, he fired a series of hexes at Ron in rapid succession. Ron didn't have time to defend himself, he simply dropped the book and dived down - straight into the seething water of the lake.

The crowd shrieked and gasped, and then started jeering and booing. Hermione had her wand out, swearing most uncharacteristically as she tried to wrestle free of Ginny and blast the twins out of the air from her vantage point. Even Lee didn't seem too impressed with the twins for once. 'Definitely a foul play there, Fred and George certainly aren't looking to make themselves any friends in the crowd today. But they've forgotten about the book!'

It was true. They must have been able to hear Lee now, though, because they both started rubber-necking like seekers. George spotted the book, which was still under the flying charm, attempting to escape to the Forbidden Forest. He set off on an intercept course.

Fred meanwhile, was watching the water, worried he had pushed his brother too hard. Several seconds had past and there was no sign of a ginger head amongst the waves. A sudden flash of lightening struck somewhere in the forbidden forest, and a heartbeat later the roar of thunder enveloped him. Fred jumped and shivered in his robes.

Ron had just had time for a deep breath before he crashed into the water. Clinging to his broomstick for dear life, he was amazed to see that it still worked underwater, propelling him toward the depths of the lake. He quickly changed course for the surface, taking a moment to circle a gob-smacked grindylow. Looking up, he could see Fred's shadowy figure hovering a few feet above the waves, oblivious to his own presence. Ron grinned fiercely, exhaled the last of his breath through gritted teeth and accelerated to full speed. Exploding out of the water under his brother, he cannoned into him like a bludger from hell, unseating him and sending him tumbling into the lake. Ignoring the cheering from the castle, Ron sought out the other twin and resumed the chase yet again.

In the water, Fred's head broke the surface. He looked around, struggling to find his broomstick. All of a sudden, he felt a fist grab the robes at the scruff of his neck. Fearing grindylows or merpeople, he yelped, but was hauled _upwards_, out of the water, to his surprise. With an unceremonious thud, he was dumped into the bottom of what turned out to be Hagrid's rowing boat. Shivering in his sodden robes, he looked up at the groundskeeper's massive form, and attempted the winning Weasley smile. Hagrid just humphed and reached for the oars.

'Thought I'd seen it all, Weasley.' Hagrid had never bothered trying to tell the twins apart. 'Yer lucky I saw the lot of you messin' about when I was walkin' Fang. Got the boat out here just in time. So what was all tha' about, trying' to hex your own little brother?'

Fred grinned sheepishly, then coughed and spouted a stream of lake-water over the side of the boat. 'He did pretty well, though didn't he Hagrid? I've never heard of anyone fling _underwater _before.'

Hagrid shook his head wearily, trying hard not to seem impressed, but couldn't help breaking into a smile. 'It weren't a bad bit o' flying.' He pulled steadily for shore.

George seemed to be running out of ideas. He had the book again, and wasn't worried about Ron catching up while they were still outdoors; his broomstick's greater speed would see to that. But if he was to really throw him off, he would need more of a plan than that. He headed back to the castle, vaguely intending to duck and weave through the towers and turrets, but he could hear an angry voice that sounded a lot like Hermione Granger's almost as clearly as Lee's, and he suddenly didn't want to go too close to the upper windows where it was coming from.

Just at that moment the main doors opened wide. Standing in the great archway was Filch, a palsied look of hatred plastered on his face. Another flash of lightning threw his features into a grotesque chiaroscuro. His voice also seemed magically amplified when he roared into the storm, 'Weasley!! What have you done to my cat?'

Not one to waste an opportunity, George instantly wheeled about and accelerated towards the open doors. It was a big archway, and there was plenty of room to go through over Filch's head, so perhaps it was just an honest mistake that caused him to zoom in low, forcing the caretaker to dive to the floor. It was surely an unlucky coincidence that Ron came in even lower, practically scalping the unfortunate caretaker when he looked up to see if the coast was clear.

Well, it could have been two counts of bad luck, but that wouldn't explain the big grins both Weasleys wore as they tore back down the corridors of Hogwarts.

Ron made two more snatches as they wove through the passages, but was foiled by his brother's excellent dodging. They zipped past classrooms and cupboards, through the maze-like passageways of the school. Ron held close, grimly determined. He'd outlasted two of his targets and number three wasn't going to get away without a fight. Neither of them slowed down when a pair of fourth year Ravenclaws appeared up ahead. The younger students ducked back into a doorway with squeals of terror as the fliers tore past, ruffling hair and robes and dragging a few pieces of parchment in their wake.

Another turn confirmed Ron's suspicion that George was taking them towards the staff room. His muscles were aching with exertion, and he could feel them beginning to cramp up under the cold weight of his wet robes. No quidditch trial had been this demanding. But he wouldn't give up now, whatever George threw in his way.

Life held much satisfaction for a teacher at Hogwarts. To be on the faculty (usually) demanded excellent accomplishment in their chosen field. There was the chance to fill eager young minds with the benefit of experience. And not least was the fact that they were more accomplished wizards and witches than their charges, which meant, unlike in a muggle school, they could always be one step ahead of the students (no matter how precocious) in a very practical sense. So it shouldn't have been a major surprise when the door to the staff room burst open in front of George and half the faculty emerged, exhibiting a range of emotions between outrage and horror. A couple of them were pretty amused or impressed, but they were smart enough not to show it.

George had meant to challenge Ron, maybe scare him off altogether by choosing this route. Now some of the problems with his choice confronted him in a very immediate sense, a lot of them holding wands and looking really angry. And getting closer every second. 'Well, bugger,' he muttered philosophically, decelerating into a right-angled turn. For the second time in one day, he crashed through a window, this one not enchanted with safety charms, and emerged high in the great hall, his robes shredded, his face and hands covered in small cuts.

Running down Filch had been one thing (and a very enjoyable thing too), but Ron was no more inclined to play chicken with a dozen teachers than George was. The window to the great hall seemed to be his best bet, but he was a few seconds away from it yet. Professor Snape, his face twisted into with anger, was raising his wand. The window was closer. '_Impedimenta_' cried Snape but Professor McGonagall somehow knocked him aside as she rushed into the corridor. The spell flew over Flitwick's head and smashed a vase of lilies. Albus Dumbledore merely stood with his arms folded, stern-faced, but he was still more imposing than all the rest put together. The last second of the journey to the window took about a week in Ron's subjective world. Nevertheless, he made it unmolested and exited with a gasp of relief.

The great hall should have been empty at that time of day. But it seemed that nearly the whole school was there, or just arriving. Lee Jordan was flying up near the ceiling. The Gryffindors arrived on the east balcony, the Slytherins appeared opposite them on the west balcony. Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall and Flitwick arrived at the main doors surprisingly quickly followed by a crowd of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

Inevitably the scene descended into chaos. George, for the first time in his life, was astonished at just how much attention he was receiving and wheeled haphazardly. Ron ignored the crowd and homed in on his brother with deadly single-mindedness. Slytherins started to hurl insults. One of them - it was hard to see who from the Gryffindor end of the hall, but he may have been blond - drew a wand and fired an ugly, sizzling hex at the fliers.

'No, I don't think we'll be having that,' said Ginny matter-of-factly, casting a fast block. She rolled up her sleeves and blocked two more Slytherin spells. The Creeveys looked equally determined as they drew their wand and sent a choice selection of curses across the hall. The Slytherins seemed more than happy to retaliate and soon the air was alive with vicious enchantments and hastily-cast defensive magic. The air began to crackle with magical energy. Many students ducked for cover. Lee Jordan was hit by a stray hex that turned him into a chicken. He discovered that chickens can't fly well with or without a broomstick, and flapped crazily to slow his sudden descent. Hermione had her wand out but wasn't casting spells. She bit her lip anxiously, keeping her eyes fixed on Ron, ready to defend him. But he didn't need any help, he was wheeling and swerving like a demon, dodging spells left and right, always closing with George. For his own part, George had recovered himself and was weaving hard. But he had counted without Snape. The professor raised his wand with a malicious grin and cast off a single spell. George wasn't expecting an attack from that direction, and didn't see it coming until too late. He dropped the Arithmancy book in surprise and found himself enveloped in very tight cords, heading down, fast, completely unable to help himself.

'Severus, really,' tutted McGonagall, using her own wand to float him gently down to the floor.

`Ron turned into an instant dive and swept up the book in one hand, spiralling upwards holding it aloft in triumph. Three quarters of the school broke into spontaneous applause, although many didn't know quite what was going on or were suffering the ill-effects of low-grade attack magic.

'um, Professor, d-don't you think we've had about enough of this?' squeaked Flitwick to Dumbledore.

The headmaster took a deep breath. 'Quite right, Frederick. _Finite Incantatum_.' The last words were almost whispered, with only a twitch of his wand, but the effect on the entire hall was instantaneous. A tangible shock-wave of antimagic swept outward from the headmaster in an expanding sphere that passed beyond the walls and ceiling in a second. The curses and hexes were cancelled instantly. Ron felt his broomstick tremble as the Professor's spell past through it. He felt a kind of awe at that; magical artefacts weren't supposed to be even affected by anything in that class of charm. Ron flew in a wide circle to the Gryffindor balcony, where he handed the book to Hermione. He was greeted with more cheering and backslapping as everyone but Hermione congratulated him warmly. He grinned cheerfully but his face fell faster than Lee had when he looked at her. 'What's wrong, Herm? I got it back for you.'

Hermione glowered. 'Ron Weasley you _idiot_! You could have been hurt. Killed! You might still be expelled.' She gestured sharply at the teachers who were stalking towards George, who sat on the floor rubbing his head. 'It's only a stupid _book_.'

Ron was completely crestfallen. He hovered by the balcony, scratching his head miserably and mumbled; 'but I thought you - '

What Ron thought will remain unknown, because Hermione relented, stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek, ruffling his hair at the same time. 'You _are_ an idiot' she repeated, but in a much more kindly tone of voice. His suave, nonchalant reply was intercepted by a hopelessly tangled-tongue, so he just grinned and turned as red as his hair.

Filch and Hagrid had arrived with a bedraggled Fred Weasley in tow, and Ron decided that he might as well face the music. He floated back down to the ground level, limbs shuddering with exhaustion, but took care to execute a perfect landing and dismount. It would have been a shame to trip over his own robes after such a finale.

'So good of you to join us, Mr Weasley,' hissed Snape acidly. Ron gulped. He exchanged a look with both of his brothers. They were all in the same boat, but the twins didn't seem too put out. Been through this kind of thing a few times already, he thought, as Dumbledore conferred briefly with Hagrid. Then the headmaster's voice rose above all the excited chattering in the hall.

'All right, thank you everybody. Quite an exciting morning for us all, but I'm sure you'll all be wanting to return to your respective common rooms to discuss this thoroughly before lunch.' The crowds of students began to disperse, but not without a few backward glances. If they needed any new excuses for enmity, the Gryffindors and Slytherins had stored up a whole year's worth of reasons to perpetuate the eternal feud in a few minutes.

'Headmaster, I must insist - ' Filch began, but was interrupted by Snape's oily tones:

' - recommend the most severe punishments for _all_ of those - '

McGonagall: 'Really, Severus they are in my house, it is for me to decide - '

' - damage to school property, risk to students - ' Filch whined.

Snape again: ' - been getting away with this kind of thing for far too long - '

'AND THEY TRIED TO MURDER MY CAT!' sobbed Filch. This seemed to quieten everybody down, except for Dumbledore who had been humming a quiet tune to himself the whole time.

'Thank you very much professors, Mr Filch. I think, for the sake of a quick resolution to this mess, I will fine fifty points from Gryffindor - ' the brothers groaned in unison ' - for _each_ Weasley - ' they groaned louder ' - and that will be all.' He held up a hand to forestall the protests of Filch and Snape. 'I know I need not ask you gentlemen to act with a little more restraint and decorum around school in the future. Now you are dismissed.' His face was completely serious, but Ron could see the familiar sparkle in the piercing blue eyes. The Weasleys tried hard not to run from the hall, but they only just managed it.

'Haven't seen such a display of indoor acrobatics since the days of Sirius Black. Perhaps its time to check up on those anti-flying charms on the interior of the school we erected after his misadventure, Frederick? And now I think I shall take a look around with Mr. Filch and assess how close those excellent young students of ours have come to demolishing the dear old place.' He began to hum to himself again and left. Snape threw a glare at McGonagall. 'It won't be long before those Weasleys do something that even Dumbledore won't brush under the carpet. Mark my words.' He turned and stalked away.

'Duly marked, Severus,' McGonagall muttered to his swiftly departing back.

That left McGonagall and Flitwick in the hall. Neither of them spoke for a moment or two.

'Well Minerva. Consider the debt for that bet on the world-cup truly paid off.' Frederick's voice was a little stiff. 'I'd better see to putting those charms back into place. I should have known Dumbledore would remember about them.'

Minerva patted her hair and smiled 'Don't worry, Frederick. No harm came of it. And I must thank you for acting so quickly when I talked to you after quidditch practise.'

'I must say I'm impressed by how well you predicted the Weasleys' actions.'

'Oh, they're not so hard to second guess when you know what motivates them. They just _seem_ like a sort of primal force for undirected chaos, but in their defence, sometimes it is carefully directed chaos.'

Flitwick's voice lost its stiffness, and he sounded almost plaintive; 'but what I wouldn't give for some flyers like them on the Ravenclaw team.'

Minerva just smiled again, perhaps a little more smugly.

Lee Jordan sat up, rubbing his head. Had any of that really happened? And why was he lying under a table in the great hall? And, the most puzzling question of all, did he really hear what he though he'd heard between McGonagall and Flitwick?

The three Weasleys made there way up to their common room, Ron sandwiched between Fred and George. The corridors were quiet now, all of the other students long gone.

'Dunno about you two, but I'm going to eat like a hippogriff at lunchtime,' said Fred.

'Well I reckon I could eat an entire hippogriff,' replied George.

'Don't let Hagrid catch you saying that,'

Ron stopped walking and stared at them open-mouthed. 'How can you two think of eating? Term's just begun and because of you we're already on _minus_ one-hundred-and-fifty points!'

Fred looked a little hurt. He put a brotherly arm around Ron's shoulders. 'Well Ron, you have to take some of the blame, I think. If you hadn't taken chase so effectively we would've got bored pretty fast.'

George put _his_ arm around Ron's shoulders from the other side. 'Yes, young Weasley, and we're going to make sure you work very hard this year to get those points back.'

'What are you talking about?' asked Ron suspiciously, twisting his neck to try and look at George's face.

'Well, what do you think Fred?'

Ron tried to face Fred. 'Well, he flies a pretty rubbish broom, but he manoeuvres well, avoids obstacles, keeps his mind fixed on the ball. Book. Target.'

' - survived several direct attacks - you'll need to keep your wits about you when we're up against the Slytherins - , and flew underwater. Which I think may be an all-time first.'

'Yes I think we can safely say that this year, the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Slytherins aren't going to know what hit them with three Weasleys on the Gryffindor team.'

Ron couldn't speak for a minute. 'You mean it? I'm on the team?'

'And while you ponder on the negative aspects of our terrible crimes, don't forget, young Weasley,' George paused, savouring the thought, the familiar grin wide on his face; 'everyone in the school is going to be talking about this morning for _years_.'

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A/N: thanks loads to all reviewers, immensely gratified by such a positive response.. I should mention, of course, that the Harryverse in all its glory belongs not to me but to Joanne Rowling, (Ave JKR!). Even the word Harryverse is nicked, I think from Morrighan. Also pinched from the excellent Morrighan's 'staff meeting' is Frederick Flitwick's first name and position as head of Ravenclaw, hinted at above. Other influences include all of the fanfic I've read, which might cause little bits of subconscious idea theft, all I can say is check out my favourite authors, they are far beyond me. I don't know what happened to cassandra claire, but the unmatched Draco Dormiens and Draco Sinister can I think be found at the Yahoo site 'paradigm of uncertainty'.

I have to do some work this week L , but I'll write a sequel (of sorts) ASAP. Might even indulge in some character development, but I think I've got insane broomstick chases out of my system for the moment (thank goodness - there aren't that many synonyms for 'zoom').


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